


Never Let Me Go

by italktoomuch



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:05:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5110787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/italktoomuch/pseuds/italktoomuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss and Peeta attend the wedding of his old friend Delly, bringing out a giddy in love, romantic side of Katniss she never knew she had. (Super super fluffy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Let Me Go

Never Let Me Go…

Peeta’s hand on mine is steady and so familiar now, blending with my fingers into one, that I’m not sure I could say how long it’s been there. It doesn’t feel tight or restraining or possessive, just… nice, warm. Gently, I squeeze my fingers around his and let my thumb trail over his knuckles. He looks down at me with a smile and I don’t need to look at him to see the happiness in his eyes or the pride in his face – because I can feel it myself about him.

My feet crunch on the gravel, and I think how it must’ve been when we got off the coach that my hand slipped into his so easily. It’s still sunny and the light brings out the deeper blue of his eyes, framed with golden, tangling eyelashes, his hair styled just enough that he looks gorgeously effortless. His suit is a pale grey, matching my eyes he’d joked when he bought it. We don’t match other than that though, not physically; not my dark hair, left loose and wavy, nor my deep green dress and reluctant heels, but we don’t need to match ourselves for everyone to know we are a couple, that we are together.

We follow the procession of guests, all walking to the reception in an unofficial and very polite line, up and over a slight hill, reaching the marquee attached to the grand castle overlooking the water, the sun nearly setting.

It is entirely fitting, and predictable, that Delly would have had a wedding and reception, of this grandeur. I’d rolled my eyes when I’d first heard. A castle?! How many guests?! But as we take in the view, some of my scepticism fades as my breath is stolen from me at the sheer beauty of it. Because it’s perfect.

I don’t know Delly all that well, she knew Peeta from high school, and we didn’t meet until college. But on the few times I have met her, she has always been nice, sometimes intimidatingly so.

“Champagne, Madame?” Peeta hands me a glass, cocking his head to the side and pretending to be much more sophisticated than he is. It makes me smile, stretching over my face slowly at first, until he breaks character, and a crooked grin flashes on to his, making me laugh, pressing my head to his shoulder before I accept it.

“Thanks. Sir.”

We were only invited to the reception. I say only; with the numbers here nearly all made up from two large families and rich social circles joining, I thought it a wonder that we even qualified for an invite in the first place. People crowd at the bar, having just arrived here from the same journey we have, and at least another two hundred, are seated around tables, their, no doubt decadent, meal just finished.

Then I see Delly. She walks over the dance floor, her blonde hair lightly but precisely curled, half pinned up. Her dress brushes the floor, the sleeves a delicate lace and the body almost glistening in the light. And her smile looks like it has been unable to have come off of her face since the moment she woke up this morning.

She hugs Peeta first, and he carefully places his hands on her dress trying not to crease it, telling her congratulations. She beams at me, and I smile back, genuinely happy for her – or maybe just happy because of how happy she is. I tell her she looks beautiful, because really she does, and she pulls me to her too.

For the rest of the night, I only catch glimpses of her, walking on air as she mingles, making sure to talk to all of her guests, laughing with her bridesmaids, staring at her husband as he speaks. I’m much too absorbed in watching Peeta to notice anything of more detail.

“And now, we’re going to slow it down a little, for this next song,” the DJ announces, the lights dipping and the music slowing, the mood instantly becoming much more intimate.

I look to Peeta, and he offers his hand to me, making me laugh with just a look, but I accept. He pulls me close, his hand snaking around my waist and to my lower back. His face is flushed, just slightly, from dancing and drinking, and mine probably is too. But he looks… peaceful. My eyes are level with his shoulder, his body strong as we unconsciously drift closer until we are touching.

I hope the song is a long one.

I never wanted to get married when I was a child, or a teen.

Or even after I met Peeta.

It took a while and then I conceded my feelings to him and that maybe I would get married to him. One day.

I’ve said not to ask me, and he hasn’t. And if we were to get married, I’d always thought it wouldn’t be BIG, not like this. But it is so wonderful. I haven’t stopped smiling or being amazed, the entire time we’ve been here – and we didn’t even come to the whole thing.

I press my nose against Peeta’s shirt, his jacket shed and his sleeves rolled up revealing strong forearms and fine blond hairs, something he knows drives me crazy, and inhale his scent, before I smile gently up to him, feeling entirely and overwhelming in love.

“Kind of makes you rethink the whole “I don’t need or want a big wedding,” doesn’t it?” I speak quietly.

He laughs. “It is pretty spectacular. Very… Delly.”

“Mmmm,” I agree, his face breaking into a boyish grin that makes me smile widely, my heart swelling with his happiness.

Confident, he rocks us a little more, and spins me under his arm. I laugh, but I miss his body on mine and when I turn back, I lock both hands together behind his neck, my fingers tangling into the very ends of his hair and his hands switching to steady themselves just above my ass.

I pull his head down to mine and to the side, to let me whisper in his ear. I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip, swallow and take a breath, hoping to push down the flurry of butterflies that have started to rise in my throat.

“Marry me,” I whisper, and I know he has heard me. His head flies around to meet my eyes. He’s smiling though, and my heart starts to pound against my ribcage, I hold my breath. I’ve probably broken about every rule, code and regulation there is for what not to do at a wedding reception, but I’m hoping this moment goes unnoticed by everyone else but us.

“What?” he breathes, and I notice the music is ending, people are clapping and the beat is coming back. “You’re serious?”

I hold his gaze, unable to move a muscle, my hands still tied tightly behind his neck, and nod. I don’t want to steal Delly’s day, I hope he doesn’t make a sce–

His hands are cupping my cheeks and his mouth is moving to mine and I’m anticipating the touch of his lips on mine, when he speaks, millimetres from joining us.

“Yes.”

My hands dig into his hair and I pull him to me, our kiss all teeth and smiles, and I think we both start laughing.

When we break, not a soul has noticed us, and I feel relief mix with my giddy happiness, my smile probably as big and as wide and as uncompromising as todays bride’s. We start to walk away from the dance floor, from everyone, to find a quiet spot outside, alone and ours. I feel my hand in his again, and I couldn’t say when they slipped together, but I know I don’t ever want to let go.


End file.
